


Dreams

by direcxu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/direcxu/pseuds/direcxu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And in the distance he’d hear Ygritte’s laughter, watching the way her eyes smile every time he thinks of her. He’d see her red hair, her pale skin, her rosy lips, and wish he could’ve made her queen. Jon/Ygritte. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> My heart still hurts from the season five finale. I'm a mess.

As he sits down on the iron throne, fingers reaching out to touch the cold steel sword-handles, he thinks of her. He thinks of how he would've made her a queen, and how they could’ve ruled the Seven Kingdoms together. 

He can almost picture the look in her eyes as he lowers himself onto the throne, and his mind tells him that her gaze would be fierce. His mind tells him that she secretly draws energy from seeing him conquer, from seeing him become more the man than he ever was. 

Ghost settles down beside him, and Jon thinks about all the times she’d weave her fingers through the Direwolf’s fur, and coddle the dog with sweet nothings of how he was the best killer in the world. She’d train him to do ruthless things, and Jon would let her because she always won.

He can hear her voice groveling over how much she hates it here, and they’d sit down together by his desk, planning the next trip up North and who they could trust to takeover during their absence.

And when they’d reach Winterfell, he’d say hello to his brothers and sisters (it didn't matter that they were cousins—a family is a family) and he’d laugh because Arya would point Needle towards his chest, looking to start a fight despite all that’s changed.

“I don’t care that you're not my brother.” She said once, stiffening her stance like always. “You’re still one of us. A Stark, just one with fire in his blood.”

It doesn't matter that he’s the King, or that he rules all Seven Kingdoms now. He loves his family, the family that Ned raised him into. He misses the man and his son, Robb, his best friend. He wishes he could’ve had the chance to see Talisa, and wishes he could’ve saved their lives so that the red wedding would’ve never happened.

Ygritte was his family, too, and he loved her unlike anything else in this damned world. He remembers her joking of pretty silk dresses and making him swoon, all things she would’ve taken advantage of here just to tantalize him. Ygritte would slip away to raid one of the wardrobes in the castle, and he’d return to his room and see her there with that smirk on her face, the red linens complimenting her fiery hair perfectly.

 _Oh, my prince! My savior! Jon Snow has come to rescue me from this horrible city and take me home to my father!_ She'd laugh and fall into his arms. _Save me, Jon Snow!_

He’d tear that dress right off of her, and she would've smiled in a way that always made him fall more and more for her each day. 

“It was my dream once,” Daenerys says, pulling him from his trance. “To sit on the iron throne and rule every acre of land this world’s known.”

He watches her with curiosity as she approaches him, and her eyes take in all that is the infamous throne room. “I dreamt for so long that this would be my home, but it is yours, and you suit it more than I ever could.”

He looks down at the handle of one of the swords, wrapping his fingers around its curve. “I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom.” He says, and Daenerys’ eyes glint. 

“I’ll teach you what I’m still learning.”

He looks back up at her. 

“But, you should read the stories of many great Kings and draw wisdom from their tales.” She steps closer to him. “You”ll learn by doing, and by making mistakes.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks.

Her gaze is strong, but her smile is soft. “My people across the Narrow Sea need their queen. And the people of the Seven Kingdoms need their king. If we’re going to rule, we ought to learn how.”

He does know some things. He remembers Ned Stark and how a man so loyal ruled a city that cursed the Red Keep when they lost their lord. He knows he doesn’t want to become the Mad King like Aerys Targaryen, or rule like Robert or Joffrey Baratheon. No, he’d rule to reunify the world when all seemed lost and destroyed by a seemingly hopeless war. He’d rule to conserve peace much like Daenerys across the Narrow Sea.

He’d be the King who gave his people hope.

And in the distance he’d hear Ygritte’s laughter, watching the way her eyes smile every time he thinks of her. He’d see her red hair, her pale skin, her rosy lips, and wish he could’ve made her queen.


End file.
